The Opera Trilogy
by AngelofMusikReturns
Summary: A 3 Point Short Story from Raoul, Christine, and Erik. COMPLETED
1. Raoul: Through the Eyes of an Angel

THROUGH THE EYES OF AN ANGEL  
  
Ever since I saw her, I knew I would love her.  
  
So innocent, so unspoiled, so unlike any other girl I have met.  
  
She changed very little since I last beheld her lovely face; only her beauty grew greater.  
  
When she spoke my name, I wanted to take her into my arms; wanted to hold her until only eternity forced me to release her.  
  
When she smiled, sunshine came pouring into my life, like the love that pours into my heart when I think of her.  
  
I thought she loved me, as well.  
  
Not as much, perhaps, but love grows fonder in time.  
  
I knew she could learn to love me like I adored her, and that in the meantime, we would be perfectly happy together.  
  
I was too much of a gentleman to tempt her with my worldly possessions; my great wealth, high position, and impeccable society.  
  
But I still knew that no woman could resist such a situation, even if love is not at first hand.  
  
And Christine, lovely, beautiful, perfect Christine, could happily reside under such circumstances, with me beside her.  
  
If she would only accept me.  
  
I thought that she would, when she smiled her angel's smile at me; when she spoke my name in her clear tones; when she glanced at me shyly.  
  
I thought I had a chance.  
  
But I did not know at the time, that there was another.  
  
Perhaps he did not hold her love, as much as he held her fascination.  
  
Even now, I look back at him then as a fearful tempter, who lured Christine to him by the sound of his voice.  
  
The voice, I once heard, seemed full of malice, and dripping with evil.  
  
But indeed, that was towards me.  
  
This man, or phantom, held my beloved by her awe, and infatuation, for the mystery of his being.  
  
But I knew that he would come to no good.  
  
The Angel with the Golden Voice turned into the Monster with the Rotten Face- and the rotten soul.  
  
When I recall Christine, shivering on the rooftops in my arms, terrified of this monster, I long to break out and kill him with my bare hands.  
  
I cannot truly believe she loved him.  
  
Her love was for a god, someone with power, someone she was in awe of, someone she loved, but powerful enough to fear.  
  
I tried to take Christine away from this nightmare.  
  
I did all within my power to keep her away, to marry her, to give her the life she deserved.  
  
But her fascination for this creature held her down, kept her captive, until she was powerless to fight it.  
  
In the end, it betrayed her, so that she followed the creature to the very brink of darkness.  
  
And yet, I cannot help thinking that, perhaps, I am in the wrong.  
  
Perhaps I knew all along that Christine's love for me was that of a brother.  
  
That the love she held for this man was of a fire and passion that ours could never contain.  
  
Possibly, she tried to tell me of this, but I was too stubborn to listen.  
  
I was too infatuated with her, in my own way, to pay attention to her words.  
  
And now, she is gone.  
  
Partly it is of my own folly, pursuing them down to the devil's lair.  
  
Had I known he would give her such an impossible choice, I might not have done so.  
  
Then again, I might have followed her out of pride, in order to regain the possession that should have been mine; that was taken away from me.  
  
And though I could not have her, she chose to save me!  
  
My life over hers.  
  
I saw the sadness in her eyes, as she looked at me before pressing her quivering lips to the phantom's.  
  
I knew that her choice was out of force, and that she did not wish to stay with him.  
  
My soul boiled at the thought of such a gruesome alternative.  
  
I would rather have died than seen my darling in such torment as what was to become of her.  
  
But I was helpless.  
  
Just as time was out, the man returned her to me.  
  
He did so to save Christine from the outraged mob, I am sure.  
  
No goodness in his heart would have convinced him to do the right thing.  
  
But as Christine and I raced off, I felt- I knew- that she left herself down there, with the monster.  
  
Even as she halted, slowly took the simple gold band off her finger, rubbed it lovingly, I knew she could never be mine.  
  
When she returned to give back the ring, I waited with fear in my heart; fear that she would not come back to me.  
  
However, when she did return, the pain in her eyes forced me to see clearly for the first time.  
  
I could not make her happy.  
  
The monster- the man- Erik could.  
  
For this reason, for love, I presented her to Erik, as a loving brother would to the groom.  
  
The light shining in her eyes, her face, alive again, was enough.  
  
I knew I had done the right thing.  
  
Erik's face, his repulsive face, showed disbelief as Christine freely kissed him for the first time.  
  
A kiss full of love.  
  
One that I had hoped to claim from my Little Lotte.  
  
But it was not to be.  
  
Before I could slip away, Christine turned to me, and as she kissed my forehead, a small tear landed on my cheek.  
  
Even now I cannot say whether it was hers or mine.  
  
Erik looked at me, then bowed low. I returned it, returned myself, back to the land of light.  
  
Oh Christine, blessed Christine, I see now what you have seen all along.  
  
Looking through the eyes of an angel, I saw that though the outside might be blemished, the inside can be a beautiful soul, if only uncovered.  
  
My pretty face held no difference than Erik's disfigured one, but our souls are one and the same.  
  
Filled with more love for Christine than there are stars in the heaven.  
  
And now, I can leave Christine with peace, for she is with her Angel at last.  
  
A/N Chapter One in my trilogy! R&R, please! Much love, Kat! 


	2. Christine: My Beautiful Angel

MY BEAUTIFUL ANGEL  
  
Ever since I heard his voice, I knew I would love him.  
  
It was golden, crystalline, beautiful.  
  
When he enticingly called my name, shivers ran through my body, unlike that which I have ever felt.  
  
I imagined his arms caressing me, like his voice did.  
  
I know, I was thought to be mad.  
  
Most people find an oddly exquisite voice, unaccompanied by a body, to be a strange, perhaps even evil, occurrence.  
  
However, in my lonely, depressed state, a voice at all, and one that magnificent, was a blessing.  
  
The voice of an angel.  
  
I remember the first time I heard it, inside my dressing room.  
  
He beckoned me to answer.  
  
He declared his love of my voice.  
  
He enticed me to sing for him.  
  
And in return, he did so for me.  
  
I recalled my father's tale of the Angel of Music.  
  
My dear Papa, having four years in heaven, had spun a story of magic when I was a young girl.  
  
Of Little Lotte and her Angel.  
  
The man with the golden voice, who taught Lotte to sing like no one could.  
  
Papa had told me he would send me the Angel.  
  
However, childhood fairy-tales are not meant to come true when one is older.  
  
And yet, it had happened to me.  
  
The Angel of Music had come to me.  
  
He declared himself so, and gave me music lessons that brought me far beyond a height I had imagined.  
  
My voice, under his instruction, grew better every day.  
  
One lessons with my angel was like a month's worth of lessons at any professional conservatory.  
  
I considered myself lucky to be his protégée.  
  
But then my dream turned into a reality.  
  
Perhaps my angel felt threatened by Raoul's appearance.  
  
Certainly, I was happy to see him.  
  
However, I am sure Raoul made my angel jealous, so jealous he wanted me with him.  
  
The mirror called me.  
  
The light lured me.  
  
His voice trapped me.  
  
His hand grabbed me.  
  
Down the dark path to the cellars, to the Phantom's lair.  
  
In awe, I stared at him as the boat made its way across the lake.  
  
He commanded me to sing, and I sang for him like never before.  
  
As he sat down to play his organ, I studied him.  
  
The dark dress clothes, the velvet fedora, the black sweeping cloak.  
  
My eyes rested on his mask, gleaming white in the candlelight.  
  
What was behind it?  
  
He then sang to me, sang in his sweet, sensual voice.  
  
He took my hand in his, and though his hand was cold and clammy, his fingers burned with desire.  
  
I could feel it even then.  
  
He ran his hands over me, took my hand and placed it on his face.  
  
He sang, and I listened.  
  
The Music of the Night.  
  
He told me light was evil, that only in the darkness can one become truly beautiful.  
  
In the midst of his lair, I fainted.  
  
When I awoke, he was again playing organ.  
  
My curiosity over took me and I removed his mask.  
  
Oh God, that I had not!  
  
That I might have saved myself from such a horrifying sight!  
  
His distorted face, contorted with fury, countered his voice.  
  
A demon with an angel's voice.  
  
But his anger turned to distress.  
  
He begged me to forget his face, to love him for his voice.  
  
He said I could learn to love the rest of him in time.  
  
Then he let me go.  
  
After that, I clung to Raoul.  
  
His handsome features clouded over when I spoke of the Phantom.  
  
I knew he would protect me.  
  
But even on the roof, we were not safe.  
  
That man had a power over me, one that I could not fight.  
  
I was doomed to return to him.  
  
Strange enough, through my fear I still felt the attraction for him.  
  
This man who declared to be my angel.  
  
The man who turned into a monster before my very eyes.  
  
Yet I still felt a passion for him that I could not explain.  
  
Against my better judgment, I became engaged to Raoul.  
  
He could love me dutifully, keep me safe, give me everything I wanted.  
  
Not everything.  
  
The Phantom discovered our engagement.  
  
He ripped the chain with the ring off my neck, I winced in pain.  
  
Or in fear.  
  
The large gold ring, giant diamonds sparkling, rolled to my feet.  
  
I had to sing; Raoul said it was the only way.  
  
I was frightened; he could snatch me at any moment.  
  
But I did it; they had to catch the monster.  
  
I sang, but it was not Piangi in front of me.  
  
My angel had heard my voice and had come to sing with me.  
  
I knew Piangi was dead.  
  
Just like Buquet.  
  
I knew that I was trapped, but my emotions confused me.  
  
I sang with passion to the man who had killed.  
  
He shuddered under my touch, and I knew I had him trapped as well.  
  
But when he placed the plain gold band on my finger, my senses whirled, and I foolishly exposed his face.  
  
Back down to his lair, down once more.  
  
To a place where darkness ruled, and there was no room for light.  
  
He placed a wedding veil on my head.  
  
Just then, Raoul came rushing down, and I cursed the stupid boy for following us.  
  
I rushed to him, and at our hesitation, the Phantom caught us both in a trap.  
  
The Punjab Lasso around Raoul's neck, I was given a choice.  
  
It was a difficult one.  
  
I did not want to stay with this monster under such circumstances.  
  
Yet it was that or Raoul's death.  
  
In the end, the choice should not have been that difficult.  
  
I kissed Raoul's cheek, then turned to the man who held our fate in his hands.  
  
And I kissed him.  
  
Full, long, wonderful.  
  
At that moment, I knew I could love no other than Erik.  
  
Underneath that face, there was a soul.  
  
A human soul, one who only longed for compassion, and understanding.  
  
I craved to give it to him.  
  
But Erik turned me away, the crowd was coming; it was not safe.  
  
Raoul took my hand and ran.  
  
Even so, I slowed, took Erik's ring off my finger.  
  
I held it, felt its warmth, it's dull sheen in the poor candlelight.  
  
And I went back to Erik.  
  
I felt Raoul tensing, but I didn't care.  
  
I gave Erik his ring.  
  
Our hands brushed, our senses tingled, and his eyes hopefully glanced up.  
  
Then he turned his back on me.  
  
I returned to Raoul once again, and he looked at me.  
  
Past my eyes, into my heart.  
  
Gently he led me back to Erik.  
  
Raoul took my hand and placed it in Erik's, and smiled weakly.  
  
I kissed Erik on his beautiful lips.  
  
We embraced, and neither of us were willing to let go.  
  
But we did.  
  
Then I looked at Raoul, who had a pained look in his eye, but a happy one as well.  
  
I could have kissed him.  
  
I did kiss him.  
  
His forehead bowed as I placed a kiss there, and a tear mingled between us.  
  
Then Erik, strong, sturdy, unbendable Erik, bowed deeply.  
  
Raoul returned the bow, and left us.  
  
I turned to my angel.  
  
Erik, forgive me for not seeing you.  
  
For looking at your face and seeing only the horror.  
  
Raoul, thank you for understanding, for seeing Erik as I saw him.  
  
My beautiful Angel.  
  
A/N This is the second chapter! I hope you are enjoying this! And reviews would be appreciated! Luv Always, .:Kat:. 


	3. Erik: My Shining Light

MY SHINING LIGHT  
  
The minute I heard her, I knew I would love her.  
  
Her sweet, clear voice; her shy, coquettish face.  
  
Those large green eyes framed by thick dark lashes.  
  
Her innocent, deadly smiles... All this I love and more.  
  
When I found her crying in her dressing room, my heart nearly broke in two.  
  
I could not help myself.  
  
I talked to her, comforted her.  
  
Of course, I could not tell her who I was.  
  
Posing as her Angel of Music, I found a way into her mind.  
  
Though she was rather wary of me at first, she soon became enthralled with me, and my singing.  
  
I gave her lessons to improve her voice.  
  
Under my instruction, her voice bloomed like the beautiful flower she was.  
  
I did not oppose her obsession with me; it in fact quite matched my obsession for her.  
  
Late at night, when she was asleep, I would watch her.  
  
Her pale skin white in the moonlight, with the moonbeams trickling across her dark ringlets.  
  
Her eyelashes draped across her striking eyes, her slim hand beside her cheek.  
  
A picture too lovely for words.  
  
Surely this girl was more angel than woman.  
  
And indeed, when I was through with her teaching, she had the voice of an angel to match.  
  
I will never forget the night that witch Carlotta huffed off the stage, and allowed my darling to shine through.  
  
She sang with passion, and abandon, and I knew that she was singing for me.  
  
Just looking at her took my breath away.  
  
But that young, lovesick fool had to come along.  
  
His pretty face gave my voice competition, and in the end, I had to take Christine away from him.  
  
I would have liked to give Christine more time before I exposed her to me, but the idiotic Vicomte gave me no choice.  
  
I had to distract her before I lost her to him.  
  
Indeed, my voice, so near her own ear, and my hands, roaming over her perfect body, distracted her.  
  
However, my mask proved to be too much of a temptation for her.  
  
Oh God, that I might forget her face as she unveiled my hideousness.  
  
Her eyes, bright with fear, her mouth- how I long to kiss her beautiful lips- round in disbelief.  
  
Lost in my anger, I spat words at her and chased her until she fell with exhaustion and terror.  
  
Then I saw Christine, mon ange, lying on the floor, sobbing under my torture.  
  
I hated myself, my face, my monstrosity.  
  
I sang softly, got her to look at me, to hand me my mask.  
  
Then I returned her before I did more damage.  
  
After that, everything went downhill for me.  
  
From prying Joseph Buquet to Madame Giry's warnings; the manager's stupidity and that Vicomte's imprudent ways, I had had enough.  
  
Carlotta proceeded to take Christine's place in the opera.  
  
Making myself known, I embarrassed the diva beyond her imagination.  
  
But it was not enough.  
  
I reverted to drastic measures.  
  
Buquet was the first one to fall.  
  
Indeed, he fell, right on top of the meddling Meg Giry.  
  
Raoul and Christine on the rooftop-they never knew I was there.  
  
The song they sang, the vows they made.  
  
It burned my heart.  
  
I wanted to kill them, wanted him to die slowly and make her suffer.  
  
I wanted to force her to love me.  
  
I promised revenge to their deaf ears, and at the end, I dropped a chandelier at Christine's feet.  
  
For six months, such agony I went through!  
  
Feverishly writing, Don Juan Triumphant was ready at last.  
  
I made my entrance.  
  
Wrenched the engagement ring off my beloved as if it were a hot coal.  
  
They were so frightened; they dare not refuse.  
  
Christine would sing Amnita.  
  
She returned to her father's grave, and I was ready.  
  
I called to her, and she came to me.  
  
But again that damn boy interfered, and she ran away with him, away from me.  
  
The night came, my great opera's debut.  
  
My plan was set.  
  
I took Piangi's place-he didn't feel the rope until it tightened.  
  
Christine sang like never before, almost as though she recognized my voice.  
  
I hid beneath my hood as I teased her with my voice.  
  
She in turn teased me with her hands as she sang.  
  
Towards the finish, she discovered my identity and tried to run, but I grabbed her wrist and held fast, drawing Christine towards me.  
  
How I loved her, needed her then!  
  
But she revealed my face to the world.  
  
In that moment, I feared all was lost.  
  
Once again I dragged her down to my lair, in a mix of feelings.  
  
I threw the wedding veil on her head; her plain gold band was on her finger.  
  
A perfect bride.  
  
Her face, cold and frozen, was numb of feelings.  
  
A perfect dead bride.  
  
I will never forget those words she spoke to me.  
  
"This haunted face holds no horror for me now. It's in your soul that the true distortion lies."  
  
But they didn't affect me until later.  
  
Once again, Fop-boy turned up and demanded to have me release Christine.  
  
At this point, my rage was so great, I let it consume me.  
  
In that moment, I gave my angel a hopeless choice: to live with me, as my wife, or to let her Vicomte die.  
  
I knew she would choose his life over hers.  
  
I didn't care that she would be mine by force, as long as she was mine.  
  
She did choose me.  
  
She pressed her lips to mine, and held them there.  
  
My Angel kissed me for hours.  
  
For eternity.  
  
And then I knew she couldn't be mine.  
  
Not against her will.  
  
So I let her go- the mob was a good excuse.  
  
I gave her to Raoul and bid them both out of my sight.  
  
I thought she would be glad to leave me.  
  
To go into her world of light with her handsome young husband.  
  
The Vicomte dragged her away, and I stood, alone.  
  
But she came back, with my ring in her slender hands.  
  
She offered it to me, hope in her eyes.  
  
I mistook the meaning and turned my back on her.  
  
Moments later she returned, and Raoul gently guided her to my side.  
  
I stared, unable to believe what was happening.  
  
Christine gave a small nod, then reached up and kissed me, a kiss full of fire and passion.  
  
I died and was born again during that kiss, like a phoenix out of its own ashes.  
  
Dare I hope that she loved me as much I as loved her?  
  
Could she choose me over a perfect life?  
  
As if she read my mind, she murmured in my ear, "A life without you isn't a life at all."  
  
Raoul watched us, and as she gave him a farewell kiss, I bowed to him.  
  
He showed honor that I had not thought was in him.  
  
After he left, Christine and I turned back to each other, drunk with adoration.  
  
Christine, mon ange, I beg forgiveness a thousand times for what I have put you through.  
  
I promise to make it up to you, by loving you a thousand times better.  
  
I will sing for you a thousand times, and kiss your lips a thousand times.  
  
I will always love you.  
  
Oh my beloved Christine, thank you for seeing me, for being my shining light.  
  
A/N I hope you enjoy this, I have now added all three into one story. I am sure more will pop up later, but for now I have a lot of stories to continue. I would appreciate any reviews! Thanks for reading! Luv Always, .:Kat:. 


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